Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCVI
You've found yourself standing at the gates of Hell, and you're given a typewriter and one page waiting in it. You have one short poem to either keep you out, or shove you in.
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Angel Wings
Dusty angel wings,
Peeks out from the other side,
Of the tall, heavily guarded gates,
Fluttering like a lifeless bird,
Blacken and burned to the core,
Reaching out to offer you a way out,
You reach out,
And crush them till you hear no more of the ugly, pathetic cries of mercy,
Oops,
Who says you want out of hell?